A Day at Camp
by Shadowmage11
Summary: "Hey, that's great Stocke. You can use my poncho as a cape !" Everybody is hungry after a long day trekking on the Gran Plain - but why won't Stocke show some more emotion?


**A Day at Camp**

"Let's rest here for now."

"Yay!"

"Alright, I'm starting the fire."

"Wait, what? No, Raynie! You always take the easiest job."

"What was that Marco? You like putting up the tents? Great!"

It was simply another day of traveling the world. The small group of four set up camp on the Gran Plain after a long day of walking and sporadic fighting. It was a small reprieve from their exhausting journey.

"Hey Marc, you done yet?" The man in question sighed as he continued to stir the simmering stew.

"Why are you so impatient Raynie? Food takes time to cook!"

The spearwoman scoffed. "Only when you're cooking – everybody else is hungry, right?" With a mischievous grin, she turned to the other man sitting by the fire. The grin transformed into a frown as their stoic leader simply held her gaze.

Raynie's eyes narrowed, trying to glare Stocke into submission. But the swordsman was hardly intimidated, and more then patient enough to simply wait for his food without complaint. The woman threw her hands up in frustration before she spotted a little blur with her peripheral vision.

She started to grin again. "Hey Aht! Come over here!"

Responding to her name, the little satyros girl stopped climbing over the various rocks and boulders at the edge of camp and came sprinting over to the fire. The cunning glint in Raynie's eyes signaled some plan forming in her mind. But her machinations were temporarily disrupted as the little teal lightning bolt tripped face first into the ground.

"Hey Aht, you alright?"

"Aht!"

"Woah Aht, you okay?"

All three humans jumped to their feet in worry; the child of their group was far too hyperactive for her own good. But the anxiety of the moment soon blew away as Aht began to giggle and roll around on the ground.

"Hey you little brat, you had us all worried for a moment. Stop running around so much!" The older woman walked over and hiked the girl to her feet, only for the satyros to twirl away and start hopping up and down.

"Nu-uh, that was an accident. I have great balance!" Aht's claim was understated as she landed wobbly on one leg and started to flail her arms around for control.

Gripping the bridge of her nose, Raynie reached out and took steady hold of the girl. Aht pouted as the older woman led the young satyros over to the fire and sat her down, the loud but somehow endearing protests slowly dieing as the girl calmed down.

Shaking her head, Raynie looked over to the brown and teal ball that was curled up against Stocke. The satyros had her eyes closed in mock sleep as she used the swordsman for support. Raynie laughed when she glanced at Stocke's face, finding an uncommon look of bewilderment on their generally impassive leader. If she didn't know better, Raynie would almost expect Stocke to be mouthing something like "help me".

_Still_, Raynie told herself, _now is the perfect time._ "So Aht," the tiny blue eyes flickered open, "aren't you hungry right now?" Those blue eyes blinked once, twice, and three times before widening in realization. As if her entire body was in sync, a little growl rumbled out of the girl's stomach.

Stocke jerked his head out of the way of the missile that had rocketed to her feet. "Yeah! I'm really hungry – are you done yet Marco?"

The designated cook eyed the girl rocking back and forth on her heels before giving a weary chuckle. "Honestly, is food all you girls care about? I thought it was supposed to be guys that only cared about their stomachs."

"Uh, well…" Aht started to fidget, remembering all those silly lessons about manners that Elm and Liese tried to teach her, "I'm still hungry."

Stocke was watching the other three rather passively, not feeling the need to interject. But having been a Specint agent for years, his observational skills were second-to-none. So, the blonde swordsmen braced himself as he saw his wily subordinate glance at him and smirk.

Raynie didn't even bother to try and hide the downright evil glee plastered on her face. She might not be the best Specint agent, or even one to think most things through (as Marc so loved to point out). But she knew enough to predict a few key events which signaled instant success for her plan. "You know Aht, Stocke hasn't said much. Don't you think he's hungry too?"

The satyros, who almost looked ready to jump into the cooking pot, instead turned around to face the red swordsman behind her. Surprisingly, she didn't say anything as her head simply tilted to the side in askance.

Stocke regarded the girl in front of him for a moment before speaking. "You can't always rush into a situation" his carefully thought out words began, "sometimes, you have to be patient and wait."

Blue eyes blinked. "Sooo…you're not hungry?"

"I didn't say that. We just have to wait for Marco to finish."

"Sooo…you are hungry, but won't do anything?"

The man closed his eyes in a surprisingly expressive display of weariness; the man was too collected to even sigh. "Yes. And you need to stop demanding so much from Marco."

Of course, with his eyes closed Stocke couldn't see the little satyros puff out her cheeks in indignation. Why didn't he just say he was hungry in the first place? What's the point in not saying you aren't hungry? Why did Stocke have to be so stupid sometimes!

Irritated, the girl landed in the dirt with a huff, staring at her idol with an annoyed pout; her eyes narrowed slightly, her lower lip jutted out, and her arms crossed across her chest. The man hah nerves of steel as he glanced at Aht, remaining completely unaffected by the cute scene that would bring lesser men to their knees.

Somewhere in the background, Aht heard Raynie laughing heartily. But the satyros shaman cared not, as she focused all her attention on the immovable rock in front of her. It was crazy! Everybody always did something when she pouted like this. Vanoss would chuckle and place a hand on her head. Liese would shake her head and admonish her. Elm would always give in to whatever she wanted – but not Stocke. This guy didn't do anything! Really, for all his awesomeness, he could be so frustrating.

The two reached a stalemate as man and girl both refused to give in. Marco and Raynie watched the confrontation, one sighing as he stirred the stew and the other laughing her head off.

Stocke used one eye to observe his subordinates and surroundings. _That was so cool!_ Aht had no idea how the red swordsman had learned to do it, but moving only one eyeball was weirdly amazing. As she watched his eye turn about, Aht almost missed the slightest unconscious gesture from her target. His offhand had subtly changed its position, reaching up to adjust his red cape by a miniscule amount before dropping back as if no movement had occurred at all.

Aht grinned. Her victory was assured!

The girl watched as Stocke's eyes narrowed a millimeter. She could imagine it, the warning klaxons blaring in his head as he questioned himself, _what has changed? Why is she grinning?_

But it was too late for him as the young satyros employed all the swiftness she could muster. In a flash the girl had reached out, grabbing the red cape in two hands as she sprinted past Stocke. Working quickly, the girl had removed the garment from its usual position as she escaped out of Stocke's reach.

"Aht! What are you doing?" As quickly as she had run past, Stocke flipped to his feet and turned to face the little thief; a little thief that was currently twirling in circles, swinging his precious cape around.

The girl only continued her dance. "I reeeally like you're cape Stocke. It's so comfy!" Rubbing the material between her fingers and rubbing the cloth against her cheek, Aht was surprised to learn that the cape was actually made of very fine wool that somehow hadn't worn away with use.

Stocke relaxed slightly, taking an unassuming stance as he reached out a hand. "My cape back, Aht."

"Uh…" Aht assumed her thinking stance, putting a finger to her chin. Taping the finger lightly, she took a peek at Stocke passively waiting for his possession. The satyros came to a decision.

With a light twist her hooves pounded on the dirt, taking off around the camp and away from Stocke. "Nope!" she cried out, her voice quickly left behind by the body.

Faced with an incredible situation, Stocke looked like he was in shock. He stood there with his hand outstretched for a full second. Looking down and clenching his hand, the swordsman realized that no, his cape wasn't back in his hand where is should be.

Stocke was a man of action. Raynie learned that from working with the guy for only a day. Sure, he could think about the big picture and make plans or sneak around but in the end Stocke was all about hitting things with his sword – not the best trait for a man working in Specint.

So when Stocke started to run after Aht to Raynie's expectation, she laughed and laughed and laughed.

Despite Stocke's natural physical advantage and years of training, he could not manage to grab his cape from the twirling dervish before him. The man could out run Aht any day, but the girl's natural agility allowed her to slip away from his grip.

Aht giggled as she heard Stocke grunt in frustration. The girl jumped, ducked, spun and skipped around the camp, all the while joyously laughing and taunting.

"Woops, try again Stocke!"

"Wah, Stocke that was a close one!"

"Hahahah, go go go Stocke!"

Their dance around the camp continued as the pot of stew slowly cooked in the center. At some point, Stocke had managed to grab a hold of Aht's poncho. Unfortunately for him, the girl simply slipped out of the garment before continuing on her merry way.

"Hey, that's great Stocke. You can use my poncho as a cape~!"

"Aht, I want _my_ cape back." A grasp for the red garment was thwarted by a double-spin.

Aht continued to retreat backwards as she faced Stocke and stuck out her tongue. "Ahahaha, never! It's mine now - a fair trade, don't cha think?"

The pair continued the chase all the way up until Marco intervened, calling the group to eat the freshly cooked food. The four quickly gathered around the campfire with bowls in hand and soup in mouths, forgetting any squabbles in the presence of the long awaited meal.

Everybody was quiet as they ate their food in peace, any and all worries temporarily forgotten in the simple joys of life.

After inhaling her first two servings, Raynie curiously looked at the mismatched pair sitting on the far side of the fire. She chuckled upon sighting Stocke, once more expressionless, yet draped in Aht's poncho. As Raynie's gaze shifted downwards the woman smiled as she watched Aht lean against Stocke's side, cradling her food, covered in his red and gold lined cape.

"Hey Raynie, what's so funny?" Aht piped up, her sharp ears catching Raynie's quiet reaction.

"Oh, nothing much. Stocke looks good in your Poncho, Aht." Everybody laughed when they heard Stocke grunt in response.

"But Aht," Marco commented, "don't you think you should give Stocke's cape back?"

The satyros' response was quick and light-hearted. "Nope! Stocke is never gonna get his comfy cape back; it's mine now."

Marco frowned at her response. "Hey Aht, isn't that being kind of selfish? You did steal the cape, after all."

The sound of eating quieted as the mood perceptibly darkened. All eyes turned to the little shaman who was silently staring into her bowl. As the girl seemingly ignored the question, Raynie and Marco shared a worried look.

Of course, the one to break the silence was the man who always cut directly to the point. At the simple speaking of her name, Aht looked up at Stocke. Holding his gaze, one could think the two were communicating through their eyes alone. Staring back into her bowl, Aht finally whispered out a response.

"Mhm, yeah. It is. But if I have Stocke's cape, he won't leave without it. And I never want Stocke to leave me."

The girl's words were ominous. They seemed like the simple selfish words of an enamored girl clutching on to her love with a death grip, worried about the smallest things in life. But, somehow, they weren't. Nobody but Aht truly understood her words, but they all felt the enormity of her emotions.

Raynie almost responded, wanting to assure the little girl that her hero Stocke would never leave her. But the spearwoman could not shake that terrible premonition and thusly stayed her voice.

Silently, the group returned to eating their dinner. They went about cleaning up the camp before wandering into their bedrolls or out onto some tree to keep watch.

Snuggling in to her bedroll, Aht cradled the red cape to her body, memorizing the scent and feel of the material.

Aht gave the cape back to Stocke the next morning.

* * *

><p>AN: What is this? I originally meant it to be a nice happy little 'fic, inspired by the idea of Aht and Stocke swapping cloaks. I enjoyed Radiant Historia immensely, and really liked the characters (except for Marco – I always found him kind of useless. Sorry Marc!) The game doesn't get enough love here or anywhere else.

Somehow, the ending of this story morphed into some dark serious little thing completely at odds with the rest of the 'fic. I guess I could've ended it with everybody sitting down for dinner, but my soul is dark like that I suppose.

Anyway, leave a comment whether it's criticism, flames, or praise. Thank you for taking precious time out of your life!


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